


Órenya

by NessieFromSpace



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Fantasy AU, M/M, Violence, fae tim, mild depictions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 15:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20602784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NessieFromSpace/pseuds/NessieFromSpace
Summary: Cursed and run out of the village, Rhys finds solace in the enchanted forest. Then, one day, a Fae going by Tim asks to be hidden. When Rhys complies, he's bound to the fae forever.





	Órenya

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for my friend Atlas!

It wasn’t Rhys’ fault for his condition. He’d been born with a broken eye and cursed by his mother for it as she took her last breath. As he grew, all the townsfolk would glance sideways at him, waiting to see if he would cause a plague or draught. Even the villages surrounding knew his name. The one cursed by a woman who never stayed in her own bed. It didn’t matter how well behaved Rhys was or how much he followed the societal rules, they always judged him and blamed him for everything that went wrong.

It was a thunderstorm that pushed the townsfolk over the edge. When they’d finally put out the small fire caused by it, they turned on Rhys, throwing stones at him, even throwing them at his small hut for hours. He sat, huddled at the door, barring them from entry. When they finally grew tired and left, Rhys knew it was time to leave. In the dark of the night, he packed his things and left, journeying into the forest. It was thick and enchanted and everyone knew the dangers and that’s what would keep him safe. He camped under the thick trees until he was able to build himself a small hut.

It was humble, but it was quiet and no one scorned him. Even the odd creature that passed by him paid no mind. It was the first time in his life that Rhys was able to live peacefully, creating himself a small vegetable garden and learning the secrets of the forest. 

He hummed to himself one morning as he worked on his garden, smiling at the carrots that were almost ready. Then, a man collapsed over them, large gashes littering his body. He was tall and fair, with freckles dancing over him like stars.

His face had fallen in Rhys’ lap, dragging dirt with him. “Please…” he wheezed. “Hide me…” His crystal red eyes stared at Rhys, pleading for a moment before passing out.

Rhys stared, shocked at the dazzling man. His thick fire red curls fell around his face, exposing his ears, which were curved downward and pointed. Rhys sucked in his breath. This man was fae. He’d heard about them. They were the shepherds of the forest and not to be messed with, or trusted. And he was asking for Rhys’ help.

He would have to be careful when the fae woke up, but right now he could help the creature. Hooking his arms under the fae’s, he got to his feet and began to drag him into his hut, laying him on the sleeping mat. He covered him with the fur blanket and then went back outside, shutting the door behind him. What was going to happen now that he harbored a wanted fae and who was chasing after him?

He didn’t have to wait long. He could hear several persons coming along. His mind whirled as he tried to think of what to do. They would surely ask him about the fae. His eyes wandered over his garden and now saw the damage the fae had caused. He gasped and went over, forgetting his circumstance for a moment. He glared at the spot as several fae approached him. They were lavender with dark markings swirling gracefully over them. Their eyes were black and enrapturing as they looked at Rhys.

“Hello, stranger,” they said gently, their voices melodies to the same song. Rhys stared at them, taken in by their beauty. “Have you seen another one of us, he’s fair with red hair. He’s wanted for crimes against our court.”

Lulled by their voices, Rhys nodded.

“Where is he?”

It was bubbling up his throat and crawling down his tongue. His eyes fell to his garden and he blinked, frowning. “My garden,” he said. Shaking his head and blinking hard, he pointed. “He fell into my garden.” He glared at it as he realized they had tried to bewitch him.

“We apologize terribly for all the trouble he’s caused. But _ please_, tell us where he is.”

“I don’t know where he is!” Rhys fumed, angry eyes looking at them. He could feel their magic seeping into him, but he hung onto that anger and let it cloud his mind instead. “He fell into my garden and left.” Forcing his eyes away, he knelt by his garden and began to fuss with the carrots. He did not know how convincing he sounded, but he was done talking with them.

“Which way, kind stranger?”

Grunting, Rhys threw his hand out in a random direction.

“We graciously thank you for your time.”

He ignored them as he surveyed how many carrots were probably ruined. He patched up his garden, cutting away all the broken stems. He did not know how long the fae had been gone when he was finished. He stood and turned into his home.

The stranger had not moved at all. He pulled back the furs, now covered in fae blood. Rhys sighed. Of course. He’d have to wash that later, as well as every other thing this fae would tarnish. He put together a small fire and began to warm up some water while he gathered the spare fabric he owned. He washed the wounds and wrapped them, piling the rags on the rest of the soiled fabrics. Huffing, he grabbed the two buckets and walked to the river to get water for the bedding.

* * *

As suppertime rolled around, the bedding was dry and folded and the stew was bubbling in the pot. Rhys cut the bread and readied the two bowls as the stranger began to stir. He sat up, those red curls springing gracefully around his shoulder.

He looked around and Rhys felt those eyes staring at him. He stood as though he weren’t hurt and made his way over to Rhys. “You have done me a great service,” he said. His voice was soft and gentle and melodic like the other fae, but this time, there was no magic seeping into Rhys. “I am in your debt.”

“Good,” Rhys said. “You can find me some new carrots. You ruined them when you fell into my garden.” He glanced up at the fae, unamused or phased by the fae’s heart-melting smile.

The fae chuckled and bowed. “I will repay this debt.”

Rhys grunted and handed him a piece of bread. “So, you want to tell me why you were being chased and what crimes you’ve committed?”

Tearing off a part of the bread, he ate a bite. Rhys found himself caught for a moment, watching the stranger. He forced himself to look away and walked to the stew. He served each of them a portion.

“The court I belong to and theirs have always been at odds, but this time they went too far.”

“Like how?”

The fae looked at him for a long time, those eyes peering into his soul. “I was being chased, how were you not affected by their magic?”

Rhys shrugged, handing the bowl to the man.

“Thank you.” He stared at Rhys again. “I am Tim. What may I call you?”

Rhys winced. His name was cursed. Anyone who knew his name scorned it. He didn’t know how far the knowledge of his curse had gone, but he did not want to take any chances. “It doesn’t matter.”

The fae smiled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I see, but what should I call you?”

“Whatever you feel like.”

Tim’s brows rose. He held his hand out for Rhys’. Hesitantly, Rhys let him take it. Tim’s touch was soft and gentle as his thumb ran over the palm. He stared intently for a long moment before nodding, lips curling into a secret smile. “I see.”

Instantly, Rhys ripped his hand away, hugging it to his chest. He frowned. “What was that?”

The fae chuckled. “It was harmless, I assure you.”

“What were you doing?”

“Just looking.”

Rhys stared at his hand. “Looking at what?”

“At what to call you.”

A sudden wash of fear swept over Rhys and now he regretted ever opening that door. He held the hot bowl, unsure. “What-”

“Órenya.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you.”

Rhys quirked a brow. “Me?”

Tim laughed. It smoothed over every wrinkle Rhys had. He swallowed and looked at the stew, taking a bite.

“Where do you hail from?” Tim asked.

“Nowhere.”

“You come from nowhere and have no name and you were able to withstand fae magic.” He squinted at Rhys. “I’m starting to question who the _ real _ fae is.”

Rhys grunted over a bite. “It is not me, I assure you.” When Tim frowned, confused, Rhys sputtered. “I… I just mean… I felt the magic… In fact it got me at one point, but… I don’t know… I snapped out of it when I saw the damage in my garden and as long as I didn’t look at them, my mind was clear.”

“Is that so? It takes a strong mind to do that.” He took a bite of the stew. His eyes grew wide. “This is delicious! I can already feel my wounds healing! You are a wonderful cook!”

Rhys smiled. “Thank you…” He could feel his cheeks heating at how joyful the fae was.

“I should thank you. I owe you my life.” As Rhys went to speak, Tim put his hand up. “I know you say all I owe are carrots, but you do not understand what this means in fae. To owe someone your life is of great importance. It is why we try to never let that happen.” He smiled. “I am glad it happened, though.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I got to meet you.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, lips cracking into a smile. “Sure.”

By the next morning, Tim had healed completely. He bowed and smiled at Rhys. “I will see you soon, Órenya.”

* * *

It was well into the next season and Rhys had not had a visit. He had dwelt on it for the first month, looking around every time he heard a noise. There was a lingering call in his chest that wished above everything to see Tim again. It was ridiculous. It wasn’t like he had known the fae that long.

He _ was _ fae though, maybe it was a lasting effect? It was hard to sleep at night, his mind replaying the whole visit and it wore him down some during the day. Slowly, however, it faded and Rhys was able to go back to his normal life.

He wrapped himself in a cloak, the morning air chilling. He was headed for town to stock up on supplies and sell vegetables from his garden. It was always hard to sell what he had, but there were always enough folk that took pity on his cursed soul. They were his regulars. They did not speak to him, only buying his goods.

By midday he had enough to collect flour and sugar. He tucked them away as he left the village, careful not to let anyone see which way he was going. When he heard people following him, he sighed quietly to himself. It would be a long walk home now. He would have to walk for a while until they got bored or beat him up and left him alone.

Today, they did not wait until they were bored, however. The first rock hit his shoulder, the second hit his head. Rhys began to run, the rocks pelting him. He heard them chase after him, yelling and throwing stones. His hood fell down as a rock soared at his ear. He fumbled, slowing down enough for them to catch up. They yanked his cloak back, making him trip and fall to the ground.

“Cursed bastard child!” They laughed, kicking him.

“How dare you show your face when no one wants to lay eyes on it!”

Rhys ducked his head, shielding it with his arms.

“You don’t deserve to be in this life!”

A rock was hurled at him, hitting his ribs. It throbbed and seared. Rhys leapt to life, trying to scramble away, but his cloak was stuck under a foot and his head was hit hard, blurring his vision.

Suddenly, they were holding him by each arm, his hair pulled taught.

“Cursed bastard child!” One mocked, pulling out a knife. “I think if we cut that cursed eye out, we’ll be safe!”

Rhys’ eyes widened as they drew closer.

“_I think that is enough._”

The rush of magic rocked into Rhys and stilled the group. They looked behind Rhys, confused. “Who are you?” one of them demanded.

“You will let him go now.”

Instantly, Rhys was released. He hastened to his feet, pulling the hood back over his face. He stepped away from the group who all stared at Tim for his next instructions. The fae stood tall, his eyes dark as blood now. Rhys’ breath caught. Tim looked other worldly. A glow seeped through his skin, those thick curls almost moving on its own.

“You think it’s fun to attack someone? To throw rocks at them? _ Why don’t you attack each other? Why don’t you throw rocks at each other? And the last one standing can beat their head in with a rock._”

Rhys jumped as the group turned on each other, swinging fists and chucking stones. His eyes were transfixed on the horrid scene. Only when Tim stood in front of Rhys, blocking his view, did he finally blink. He did so several times, his mind clearing. He stepped away from Tim, turning quickly and pulling his cloak tight around his face. He walked briskly, almost running all the way back to his cabin.

_ Tim had seen and heard_. Tim knew now. His only friendly encounter was going to dissolve. His eyes blurred with tears, a horrid, loud and sharp sob spewed from him. He had been beaten before, but never like this and never with such a violent goal in his attacker’s minds. And Tim had seen it all.

When he came to his cabin, he heaved himself inside, baring the door closed with his body. He slid to the floor, shaking, breath quick and overflowing with sobs. He ached all over, the sting from every rock thundering through him finally.

“Órenya.”

Rhys did not hear the voice at first as he curled in on himself, knees tight to his chest, head dug into them.

“Órenya,” it said again. This time it cut through the panic, calling Rhys back from the depths. When gentle hands rested on him, he jumped, his head banging against the door. A hand pressed over his cheek, the warmth soothing. In front of him knelt Tim, those red eyes back to normal. “It’s okay, you are safe. They will never hurt you again.”

His thumb brushed over Rhys’ skin, grounding him and clearing his mind. He tried to catch his breath, but it only came out in a sob. When Tim’s other hand cupped Rhys’ cheek, he felt magic pooling inside him, calming his breath. His mind began to clear from the overwhelming fear, his eyes focusing on Tim’s.

“They’ve… They’ve never gone that far before…”

The fae frowned. “Before? This is more than one occurrence?”

Realizing how much he’d given away, Rhys swallowed and shrugged. “I just mean…”

“That you’ve been attacked before.” There was ice creeping into his silken voice. “It has to do with what they called you?”

Rhys winced, pulling away from Tim. He immediately felt cold once their connection was severed. He moved to stand, feeling trapped against the door. When it became hard to do, Tim helped him, holding him steady and leading him to a chair. Rhys sat in it, wincing as his body objected to it.

Tim left to tend to the fire. Rhys felt frozen, alone and cold in the dark, but he could not fall apart in front of this fae. He was already so weak, he couldn’t let him think he was even more pathetic. He tried to pull his legs to his chest, but his ribs erupted in pain and he began to cough erratically.

In an instant, Tim was kneeling before him and pulling his tunic up. Rhys held his breath, knowing there were scars from previous beatings. Tim placed his hand where the pain was. It warmed Rhys and melted the pain away. Tim stood without looking at him and went back to what he’d been doing. Tentatively, Rhys pulled his legs back to his chest and was relieved to receive no pain from it.

The fire warmed his back, making it that much easier to rest his head on his knees and start to doze.

“Not yet,” Tim said, crouching before him again. “Drink this.”

Rhys did not hesitate. He sluggishly looked at the fae and drank whatever was in the mug. It was light and seemed to have very little substance to it, the taste was subtle, but sweet. It all slid down his throat easily. He blinked, his brain clearing of a fog he hadn’t realized was there.

“What-”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Tim said gently.

Rhys frowned. “I knew that, just… What was it?”

Tim smiled, looking at him closely for a long, quiet moment. “It is a fae drink to keep your mind stimulated. If you fall asleep as you are, it might not end well.”

Rhys nodded, but stopped when he began to see the light under Tim’s skin glow brighter. He gasped, reaching forward with his dirt stained fingers to touch the fae’s cheek. “Wow… You’re… glowing… And soft.” He smiled, loving the gentle warmth Tim emanated.

Gently, Tim took those fingers in his hand and kissed the knuckles. “I am glad you’re feeling better.”

“Yes, thanks to you. I know this makes us even now.”

“Does it?” Tim mused.

Rhys frowned. “Doesn’t it? They were most likely going to kill me. I saved your life, and now you saved mine.”

“That’s not how it works, Órenya.” He kissed Rhys’ hand again.

“Oh,” Rhys frowned. “Even if you give me carrots?”

“Even then.”

“Oh.”

Tim stood and went back to the fire. “Will you tell me why they think you’re cursed?”

He supposed it didn’t matter anymore now. “I was born with only one working eye. My mother cursed me as her last breath.”

“That’s what the humans are reacting to? Horrid words from an ungrateful woman?”

Rhys shrugged.

“The water is ready, strip so I can clean the wounds.”

Rhys did so. Tim brought over rags and hot water, his eyes assessing all of Rhys’ body, now bruising with dried and fresh blood. He wiped Rhys up, the water perfectly warm and soothing. Rhys could feel the fae magic striking at every cut and bruise, closing and fading any trace that he’d been attacked.

Rhys was silent, watching Tim, mesmerized by the intensity that glowed etherial on his calm and graceful face. Tim was taking care of him and he didn’t even know his name. “I was scared you’d know of me… If I told you my name. The neighboring villages do.”

“You are not cursed.” Taking a clean rag, he took Rhys’ hands in his and began to wash them. “Your mother had no power, she could not have cursed you. And if you were cursed, they would have known it instantly.”

Rhys frowned, watching the movement of the rag. “I always wondered, but they were always so quick to blame me for everything.”

Tim stopped, the warm rag resting on Rhys’ hand as he looked into Rhys’ eyes. “You are not cursed. You never have been.”

His eyes widened at the certainty in Tim’s eyes. He nodded, falling silent. He wasn’t cursed. He had never been cursed. They had lashed out at him for no reason besides an excuse. He didn’t know which was worse, hate with reason or hate without?

He hadn’t realized he’d started crying. Hadn’t realized that this new information made all the years of strife pointless and even more cruel. As Tim finished both hands, he took a clean one and began to wash Rhys’ face, softly wiping those overflowing tears away. He closed his eyes tightly, loving the feel of Tim so close.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I will always be there for you.”

“Because you owe me.”

Again, the fae went silent as he wet the rag again and touched it to Rhys’ face. The weight of Rhys’ words hung between them unanswered and unaddressed. He tried to read the answer in Tim’s face, but it was indiscernible. The fae cleaned up the rags and water, tending to the stew Rhys had made earlier that day.

The sun set as Tim dished them up some food. They ate together in a calm silence, sitting next to the fire on the ground. Rhys didn’t realize how hungry he was, eating heartily until he’d had two bowlfuls. As he set the bowl down, his eyes felt heavy.

“I think… that drink is wearing off…”

“Yes,” Tim said, smiling. Setting the bowl aside, he reached for Rhys, capturing him before he fell over. Rhys curled into Tim, loving how warm the fae felt. As he was laid on the sleeping mats, he reached through bleary eyes at Tim. The fae took Rhys’ hand in both his hands.

“Don’t leave me,” Rhys mumbled, the sleep heavier on his eyes. “It takes so long to get used to you being gone.”

Lightly, Tim kissed his knuckles as Rhys fell asleep.

* * *

The human slept, the bruises and cuts reversed thanks to his fae magic, but Tim still saw them. The way one can still see the evidence of a fire even though plants grew over it. They littered his face and body, the hate marring Órenya. Sleep had overcome him quickly, though. Good.

_ It takes so long to get used to you being gone. _ The words echoed in his mind.

“It will take me forever, Órenya,” he whispered.

Standing, he tended to the house, cooling the fire so it wouldn’t spread. The door seemed heavy in his hand, like he was trying to lift a hundred year old tree. He swallowed around the large rock in his throat, his body moving through mud. To leave Órenya was the hardest thing he ever did. But he would be back and that made it easier.

He shut the door behind him, his palm scratching over the handle. It was a very human thing to have happen. He looked at his hand, the marks across digging his skin that usually went untouched. He closed it into a fist and walked on, stepping through a tree to appear just outside the city Órenya had been in earlier. He walked over the mass of dead bodies on the forest path, bodies broken and with one head gashed in. He walked with light feet into the village. It was alive with shouts, laughter and whispers. Tim heard it all.

As he walked by the humans, their eyes grew wide and fearful. Quickly, they retreated back into their homes, turning the lights off. His lips curled upward with each bang of the door. He heard the panic, hushed voices spreading through like a plague. When he arrived at the tavern, there was already a group of men waiting outside, angry and ready for a fight.

His lips curled wider and he bowed.

“Get out of our village!” one man yelled.

“Of course. _ I wouldn’t want to stay here when you’re cursed._”

The man blinked. “What!?”

“_Can’t you all see him? He’s brought the drought that’s taken your crops._”

There was a loud thud as the man fell to the ground, an axe embedded into his skull. The crowd turned to the man who’d murdered the first.

“It’s your fault!” They exclaimed.

Tim turned away from them, walking back through the village and on to the next who’d treated Órenya as such. By daybreak the only survivors would be the ones without hate clouding their judgement, however many that would be, Tim cared not. As long as the ones who had hurt Órenya were dead.

* * *

Rhys had quickly heard about the strange madness that had ravaged the villages the day he’d been attacked. He spared his days with those left helping pile and burn the bodies. Most of the survivors were young.

When he asked what had happened, they only shook their heads. They would not speak of it, but Rhys didn’t need them to. His mind made conclusions, but he couldn’t see how the treatment of him could warrant such wrath from a fae. They were not concerned with the affairs of humans unless it happened in their forest. As he helped load bodies onto carts, his mind churned. Sure, he lived in the forest, but he doubted that he was important enough for his business to become a fae’s. Could this be what Tim considered repayment for saving his life? If so, it was unwanted.

“Will you be able to carry on?” he asked them as the last body was piled outside the village.

The woman nodded. “Of course we will. We’ll take our cattle to the next village.”

“I will help you,” Rhys said.

The woman smiled. “Thank you.”

And so Rhys learned of the tragedy that had encompassed the next village. The few adults carried the bodies as they arrived. Rhys gasped, knowing the fate of the other village would be the same as these two.

It was several days before he left back home, having helped all three villages burn the dead and regroup. He left them to decide the fate of what was left, walking slowly back home, lost in thought.

The birds were quiet as he walked by, unwilling to be so close to bewitched deaths. He didn’t blame them.

Out of the trees stepped Tim, hands behind his back, smile warm and charming.

Rhys glared at him. “You are responsible for the madness, aren’t you?”

“They did not have to listen.”

“If you think this was how I wanted to be repaid-”

Tim stepped forward, eyes flashing blood red for only an instant. “This was _ not _ repayment. They deserved the end they came to.”

Rhys glared. “I don’t understand why you felt the need to punish them. I’m just a human, I thought fae didn’t care about humans.”

“We don’t.” Tim was close now, his hands reaching for Rhys’. The comfort of it washed over Rhys. “Sometimes,” Tim said quietly. “Sometimes, just one human.” He kissed those knuckles again, smiling as Rhys’ eyes widened.

“You… That’s why…”

“_No one _ gets to hurt you.”

“What if you do?”

That made the fae smile. “Well, then I will do everything I can to make it up to you.”

Rhys smiled. “And what if I asked you to help the villagers that are left? Can you coax the crops to grow more easily? At least for this season?”

“You are a bad influence on me, helping humans I don’t care for.”

Smile almost bursting, Rhys threw his arms around Tim, holding him tight. “Thank you!” He turned into Tim’s curved ear and whispered. “My name is Rhys.” He pulled away from Tim, cheeks red.

Tim’s eyes glittered like a red starry sky, his smile wider than ever. “Rhys,” he said quietly. It rocked through Rhys. He gasped, though, when Tim pulled him close once more, lips pressed lightly to his ear. “And mine is Timothyanfria, now you have me completely.”

He felt it lodge deep in his soul, securing Tim to him forever. Rhys held him just as tightly. The trust and power he’d been giving felt overwhelming, clawing at him to speak it aloud, but Rhys ignored it. Instead, he crossed his arms. “That’s fine and dandy, but you still owe me carrots.”

Tim laughed, loud and brilliantly heartwarming. It was a healing breeze to the forest. He closed the gap between them and kissed him. The touch electrified Rhys, his heart swelling with relief and happiness he had not expected.

When they parted, Tim let his forehead fall on Rhys’. “Yes, we will go find some now. There will be plenty of time to help the survivors.” He took Rhys’ hand and lead him back into the forest.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: http://nessiefromspace.tumblr.com/  
My Borderlands/ fanart tumblr: https://nessiesspeakeasy.tumblr.com/  
My old Borderlands tumblr: http://nessiefromink.tumblr.com/


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